Two and Again
by nopenopnope
Summary: A series of drabbles focusing on various pairings, points of view and situations. Most pairings will be Bartimaeus/Nathaniel or Ptolemy/Bartimaeus
1. Two And Two And Two

I suppose it was inevitable that I'd get to this fandom eventually, seeing as I love it to bits. I highly doubt I can give it justice either, but I can try, right? This is going to be a collection of drabbles featuring various parings (mostly Bartimaeus/Nathaniel or Ptolemy/Bartimaeus), points of view, and situations. It will be complete when I don't feel like writing them anymore, but I promise I'll give a warning.

This one contains mild boy/boy (seeing as, inhuman as he is, Bartimaeus defines himself as a boy) but nothing explicit in the least. Set probably at the start of _Ptolemy's Gate_, or a little before that.

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Two years

Two years.

For two years he'd gone without him, still naive in his adolescence. Two years not understanding the dull ache that persisted, though not constantly. At least not at first. The consistency came later. Not understanding his infuriation with any other demon, his infatuation with the first.

And then he'd finally had no excuse. He'd finally had a reason to summon him that couldn't be broken, couldn't be picked apart by his own self doubt. It was selfish, but it wasn't a kind of selfish that should matter. He was doing this to make himself look good to others. Not to make himself feel good.

But he did.

Two years.

He'd brought Bartimaeus back into this world, and he'd kept him there for two years. He had stronger djinni now. He had more faithful servants, less bitter ones. He had stronger ones, ones that were stronger to begin with and ones that were much weaker but had the luxury of dismissal and the ability to restore themselves. But still Bartimaeus remained. Because he couldn't let him go. John Mandrake knew that he had to keep his name safe, had to keep Bartimaeus from slipping up, from ruining everything. But Nathaniel knew that it was for that same selfish reason he'd once thought he could fight against.

Maybe if he could act on those ridiculous impulses, maybe if just once he could brush his hand across the smooth tanned face of the false Ptolemy or bury his fingers in his hair and press his face against the nape of his neck. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe then he would be able to let Bartimaeus go. Not forever of course, never for good, but just for long enough to let the fading djinni regain his strength. Maybe such contact would let him soak up enough of Bartimaeus to tide him over until he summoned him once more. Until then though, he couldn't let him go, he simply couldn't bear it. If he could just maybe…Bartimaeus slipped out of consciousness quite often now, due to his continued imprisonment, no doubt. It would be so easy to just…just once…

But he never would. And so Bartimaeus would remain with him.

For two years and two years and two years again and again and again.

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Review please...


	2. Truth And How It Hurts

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I swear I'll get to Ptolemy! I swear! I just love the angry love between these two. For any die hard Barty/Ptolemy fans out there, that's what this really should be considered if it makes you feel better.

You'll see what I mean.

A little more on the mature side, but I didn't think it warranted an M because it's not very graphic.

boy/boy pairing. shonen-ai, yaoi, boy love, whatever you want to call it. It's here. If you don't like it, TURN AROUND NOW KIDDOS!

If you're still here after that...enjoy.

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own them. They'd be going at it in the series if I did. And the Ptolemy flashbacks would be R-rated.

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Nathaniel growled in frustration, biting down on Bartimaeus' shoulder. Frustration was not exactly the mood one would expect in the midst of lovemaking.

But this could hardly be called that, so he supposed it was okay.

Ptolemy's body twisted beneath him, not the warm, excited writhe of pleasure one would expect from a lover, but a cold, calculated move, meant to press against the man above him in just the right way so that his climax would course through him almost immediately. Bartimaeus wasn't trying to make him feel good; he was trying to get this over with.

But he was certainly good at it, Nathaniel thought bitterly as he did just as the djinni had intended, his body shaking and sweating in a disgusting reminder of how weak and human he was despite his magic. In contrast, Bartimaeus' false Ptolemy body was completely still, free of sweat or saliva, his face cold and passive.

And even though Bartimaeus' body was stiff and unresponsively still against the rumpled sheets, Nathaniel still collapsed against it, letting his body shiver through the after effects, his angular face pressed against the aristocratic neckline of Bartimaeus' favorite form.

They lay in silence for a few moments, one breathing heavily, the other quite possibly not breathing at all, if for no other reason than to widen further the gap that stretched between them. This was completely wrong, on any and all levels. Nathaniel knew that. Bartimaeus reminded him of it often enough. It wasn't the fact that they were both technically male, that bothered the djinni, he'd made that clear with a disgusted snort when Nathaniel, apparently still naive after all these years, had ventured that hypothesis. No, it was the blatantly offensive fact that Nathaniel was a human.

And a _magician_.

But of course there was nothing Bartimaeus could really do. Apparently magicians had summoned demons as sexual outlets for centuries. Bartimaeus had sworn in every language he'd known when Nathaniel had first shown him the rather graphic texts proving what he wanted. But swearing was about all he could do, Nathaniel was still his master after all, and his summons were flawless.

After hours of arguing he'd almost worn Bartimaeus down into an irritated acceptance…but then he'd managed to ruin everything again when Bartimaeus had changed himself into a rather attractive redheaded woman…he'd put in horns, Nathaniel supposed as a jibe for wanting to sleep with a djinni.

Nathaniel almost wished he'd just let him keep that form.

But he hadn't thought, he'd just blurted out what he was thinking, something he only ever seemed to do around Bartimaeus.

He didn't want that form. He wanted the one he used all the other times.

Bartimaeus had turned a very ugly shade of mottled purple and yellow at this, erupting into rather noxious bursts of smoke and ash.

The swearing had begun again.

Nathaniel wasn't deserving of Ptolemy's form. That was what it had come down to. When Nathaniel had finally forced him into it, using a rather complex series of nasty threats and large amounts of silver and rosemary waved in the cloud's general direction, Bartimaeus had finally given, the look on his face so furious and tight lipped that it had almost broken Nathaniel's resolve.

But not even the djinni's displeasure changed the reason he was going to such lengths.

How he'd managed to fall in love with the djinni laying stiffly beneath him was a subject so hopelessly unsolvable that Nathaniel tried to shy away from it whenever it surfaced in his mind.

He didn't know how. But it was undoubtedly true, why else would he be doing this? It had gone on for months now. A little voice in the back of his mind argued that this wasn't love. If it was love, he wouldn't be forcing the djinni into this. But he knew that was a lie. He loved Bartimaeus to the point of physical pain at times, but that didn't make him any less selfish. Whoever said that love was a selfless emotion had never met a magician. He made a living off of being selfish.

Beneath him, Bartimaeus shifted, for the first time since Nathaniel's release, his eyes blank and distant. Not even calculating, which Bartimaeus almost always way. He was just listless, lifeless even. It was unnerving.

Unnerving was not something Nathaniel was used to. It made him act rashly and foolishly. Like now, like running one pale hand down the side of Bartimaeus' face.

The look he received was possibly worse than if the djinni had struck him, even with his incredible strength. It was poison and hate and it burned into him with golden eyes. At least he wasn't lifeless anymore.

"Has no one ever…no one's _ever_ asked this of you? Not in all the time you've served, all those people you speak of?" Nathaniel asked hoarsely. He supposed it must be so. No one, not completely out of their head with this maddening infatuation would be able to withstand the withering loathing the djinni was radiating now, right into the pale form pressed against him.

"No one has ever asked." Bartimaeus quipped. That would have been the end of it, but something in the way he spoke caused Nathaniel to latch onto the statement.

"So you've never done this with a human before." He pressed on. Bartimaeus rewarded him with a look that would probably have quite literally melted the face of a human not protected by a contract and pentacle. But…where was the affirmation?

"I didn't say that."

Nathaniel's world tilted momentarily.

"But if no one _asked_..." "It was my idea." Bartimaeus cut off murderously.

"Ptolemy?" Nathaniel breathed. It _had_ to be…Bartimaeus of course loved his previous master. He'd never tried to deny that.

Nathaniel just hadn't thought he'd been _in_ love with him.

"I was curious. And he trusted me." Bartimaeus said, his voice weak and tired.

Exhausted. How had Nathaniel not noticed before how exhausted he sounded lately? Always exhausted these days.

"What if…" his tongue felt too big for his mouth, sticking like sandpaper against his teeth as he tried to speak.

"What if I trusted you?" _Trusted you, really trusted you, took away the pentacles and the threats and the rules…what if…_

"I'd kill you."

There was no emotion in that voice, not even hate. There was no need for it. It was a fact cold and simple and required no vehement tone whatsoever to effectively shatter Nathaniel's heart.

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Poor dear. I don't honestly know if I'm talking about Nat or Bartimaeus...anyway, please review!

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	3. Shape

**An update!** A lot of people have been asking for some Bart/Ptolemy and here it is!

I'd like to make a note of some things first though...feel free to skip ahead...though I'd like you to all take a look at the bit at the very end if you don't mind!

I received a review that made me think I should clear up the lack of fluff. In my opinion, Bartimaeus, especially in the last book, got a really sorry deal from Nathaniel. I simply don't think it would be in his nature to absolutely love Nat after that. I like to explore what might actually happen should they enter a sexual relationship under those circumstances. That requires a lot of trust, even in a normal relationship, and theirs most certainly isn't one. Fluff _will_ appear here and there, I want to eventually explore all possibilities with both of the pairings this drabble series contains.

Now, you two who've put up with my snail pace! (if there were anonymous reviewers here all the way through, I couldn't be sure you were the same person, sorry!)

To **Duckweed**- Thank you so much for sticking through to the Ptolemy you've been wanting...I hope it lives up to your standards, and there _will_ be more, I promise!

To **Arthuria Parmentier** - on a completely opposite note from Duckweed's...more Nat/Bart will also be on the horizon...I hope that Bart/Ptolemy will be less traumatizing than you might fear... XD

Also, **to clarify**, this isn't a chapter story! This is a series of one-shots, in no actual order, though looking back the first two do SEEM as though they could have been.

**Read Please:** Personally, I don't have a favorite as far as Bart/Ptolemy and Bart/Nat go! In my opinion, they both happened! I believe that Barti loved Ptolemy, that's canon whether you interpret it sexually or not. I don't think he will ever stop loving him, even if he does one day love Nat, which despite my angst-fest so far, I do think could happen, especially seeing the parallel between the two humans at the end of the third book. Also, in Ptolemy centered relationships, you may notice I refer to Barti both as Rekhyt and genderless. The first, because it was actually what he called him, and the second because unlike Nat, Ptolemy seems more aware of the supernatural and seems like he'd realize that while Barti associates himself with the male gender, he can be either if he wants.

Now, at the risk of my Author's Notes being longer than my actual drabble...let's get to it!

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Shape

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Ptolemy had begun to notice a pattern.

At first he thought it was simply a need to show off, then a love of all things flamboyant and stunning to poor mortals who knew so little of magic.

But after a hundred or so forms, he was beginning to suspect that Rekhyt did this on purpose.

The only way to know for sure, of course, was to ask.

Fortunately Ptolemy had never had any trouble asking anything.

"Do you do this on purpose?" he asked the second that the djinni appeared in a plume of purple, lotus scented smoke, solidifying in the form of a lithe Egyptian man…but with navy colored skin and thick black horns growing from his elbows.

"Do what?" The man asked, blinking scarlet eyes heavily lined with traditional kohl.

"Your forms. You never take the same one twice. I suspect it is because you like to impress…perhaps you fear that I would be less awestruck if I was allowed repetition? But I want my hypothesis either confirmed or corrected."

Rekhyt tilted its head thoughtfully.

"If I use a form more than once, it's too easy to identify me by. It's mostly a safety reason. There are other demons who like taking one specific form just because they like being recognized. I prefer not to be."

"Easier to escape…notice." Ptolemy said wryly, adding the notice on at the very end to be polite. Raised by honorable standards, Ptolemy did not believe in running from anything. Rekhyt of course was perfectly okay with running if it meant living.

"Exactly." The djinni said, grinning. Of course it had caught the addition, but it surprisingly enough didn't mind. Any other human would have been verbally abused, and depending on the strength of the protection circle, perhaps covered in a stinking fog.

Ptolemy used no protection circles and after all this time it didn't even occur to the djinni to harm him.

"Besides." The blue man said, stretching. "What form is worthy of me taking it more than once?"

Neither of them could know, of course, the double meaning in those words. Not until months later, when Ptolemy finally asked a question he'd been wanting to ask for quite a while and Rekhyt finally gave in to what he'd been curious about for perhaps even longer.

And there was the first meaning, not as obvious during the actual act, tanned skin pressed against tanned skin…the only time Rekhyt actually chose a human form was during these times…soft breathy gasps of amazement, neither of them quite sure who was making them.

Ptolemy had the most exquisite neck, long and regal as his people were later known for, and when it was arched back just so, his head pressing against the back of his sleeping palette, Rekhyt loved nothing more than to nip at it with just slightly too sharp teeth, leaving marks faint and reddened like gnat bites, so unlike the passionate love bites they were that even the most scrutinizing scholar would simply have to accept that his student had only stayed out too close to dusk among the reeds where the little insects resided.

Ptolemy had long, lithe limbs, and they wrapped around Rekhyt's human form so perfectly, that he almost forgot how much ridicule he'd face from his own kind if his brief interludes of pleasure were discovered.

He was slender, his body still young and transitioning into adulthood when his chest would broaden and his hips would be more proportional and less womanly. Rekhyt had always secretly mourned what would soon be the loss of such a feminine form…as a non-gendered creature…at least not on the human level, it was nice to have something so both like both genders warm and pliant beneath him.

Looking back now though, he would have given anything to see Ptolemy lose his childlike body, if only for him to have been given a few more years of life.

That was the first way meaning, his literal taking of Ptolemy's form, again and again for the last few months leading up to his death and Rekhyt's abrupt return to reality.

And now, years and years later, Rekhyt was now Bartimaeus and Bartimaeus had now taken Ptolemy's form once more, though his master was long dead. He wore it, with a pride that no one would ever detect. No one would ever actually understand, or even ask really. It wasn't uncommon, as he'd said so many years ago, for demons to take particular forms.

But he was different and he knew it. Farqual took his form because it was easy to blend in. Countless others simply liked the way they looked with certain bits and pieces.

But Bartimaeus was sure he was the only one who truly loved the form he held close to him because he'd found a form that was more than worthy of his use.

If anything, he was disgracing Ptolemy, there were just so many differences.

It was the same neck, so often covered in gnat bite kisses, but Bartimaeus could no longer kiss it. They were the same limbs, long and lithe and beautiful, but they could not recreate the new feeling of security, even when they wrapped themselves around their torso, their adolescent, honey colored torso with a chest that would never broaden and hips that would forever be slightly too large for the waist attached to them.

And Bartimaeus would never be Ptolemy, who had become such a part of him, not only in form, that he would never truly be himself again either.

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Review Please? And sorry for the long windedness in the beginning. Hope I didn't put any of you to sleep!


	4. Stutter

Someone requested a Bartimaeus/Kitty...and while I am usually quite strictly a die hard Bartimaeus/Nathaniel, Bartimaeus/Ptolemy...I was curious to see what I would come up with.  
The answer? Crack. Pure crack. But I tried. And for those of you who are here for my Bart/those boys...this isn't very specific. For all we know it could still end up that way! Feel free to interpret it that way!

Next one will be back to Bart/Nat if anyone is wondering.

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Stutter

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Nathaniel stared at his reflection in the mirror, fidgeting nervously. Kitty wanted to meet with him.

The world wasn't ending…as far as he knew…Kitty wasn't in any danger…as far as he knew…everything seemed to actually be going well.

But Kitty had sent a message telling him to meet her for lunch. The restaurant she'd picked out was fairly nice as well…that was unnerving.

All the signs pointed to her having a crush…understandable…Nathaniel reasoned…Bartimaeus had disagreed with that…loudly…obnoxiously…repeatedly…he was actually still sitting in the corner giggling inappropriately.

The problem though, was that he really didn't have feelings for her. And now, she was going to confess her love to him and he was going to have to shoot her down. He doubted offering to pay for lunch was going to make her feel better…even if technically she was the one to call the date into order.

"Bartimaeus." He snapped.

"Yeeess?" Bartimaeus asked roguishly, bouncing over.

"I can't find a suitable tie to match this outfit."

"Don't worry, I don't care." Bartimaeus said flippantly, sprawling out across Nathaniel's bed.

"Bartimaeus, do I have to command you to do this? I really don't have time to pull out all the proper circles, but if I must…I'm sure Kitty will understand us being a bit late…and she probably won't mind waiting…"

"Seeing as how she's madly in love with you and all? Note the _mad_ bit please. You'd have to be completely mental to…"

"Tie Bartimaeus!" Nathaniel snapped, and Bartimaeus rolled his eyes. "This is demeaning." He snapped, even as he changed shape.

"This is disgusting! Do you realize who I am? Even after all this time? I'm-"

"Ties don't speak Bartimaeus." Nathaniel informed the dark silk tie adorning his neck.

"And if you attempt to strangle me, I will cut you in half." He added as he made his way out of the door.

Bartimaeus blew a raspberry. It was an interesting feat for a tie.

* * *

Nathaniel slipped into the restaurant, looking around. Kitty was sitting at one of the far tables, dressed in a casual, yet suitable dress, flipping through the menu.

He sat down in front of her. Should he hurry up? Maybe that was best. It would be awkward if they ordered and then a fight broke out…seemed wasteful.

"Kitty…"

"Right, so you've got to be wondering why I wanted to talk to you…" She said, starting right in. Good. At this rate, they might not even have to order at all…

"Yes, I think I know though…" He began.

"Really? Didn't think I was that obvious…" Kitty muttered, cheeks flushing.

"Well it became apparent quickly." Nathaniel said, giving her a sympathetic smile. "I mean…when one becomes as powerful and dare I even say, attractive as…"

"I know right? I mean all those amazing accomplishments…" Kitty said, the blush remaining on her cheeks. She was stopping herself short of gushing, but Nathaniel could tell…she was really quite stricken.

"And knowing so many fascination people…human or not…and all that knowledge…I feel like I could listen forever and still not know all that there is to tell me…" She said excitedly.

"But…I suppose I'm jumping ahead. Have to actually ask first, right?" Kitty asked with a sigh.

Nathaniel sighed as well. Here it went…

"Kitty, I'm sorry, you're a lovely girl but-" "I know this might be awkward for you but-"

"I'm really just not interested-" "Does he have like…a phone number?"

They both paused.

"Wait…" She said, frowning. "What?"

"You thought I liked you?" She asked, and her laugh had the same barking quality that Bartimaeus' had.

"Why on earth are we here if you don't?" Nathaniel asked, flushing in embarrassment. "Who were you talking about if not me? I'm powerful now…and I've met lots of powerful people and I know quite a lot…and I've accomplished quite a bit...who else could you be talking about?"

Kitty stared down at the menu. "Er…B-Bartimaeus." She said softly.

Nathaniel stared blankly at her.

"What?" He asked, forcing himself to keep his voice relatively quiet. People were giving them curious looks as it was.

"Bart-Bartimaeus?" He choked. He hadn't even been fighting for this…but he'd lost out to _Bartimaeus_?

"Yeah…yeah, so…do djinni have phone numbers? Or something? I wanted to call him, but I wanted it to be nice…because I know he associates summoning with bad things…I didn't think it would be a very good way to breach the subject…"

Nathaniel opened his mouth to launch into a tirade. Bartimaeus was a djinni. Bartimaeus was horrid, Bartimaeus was…suddenly sitting on the table between then, crouched in Ptolemy's form, a mischievous grin on his face.

Nathaniel had completely forgotten about using his djinni as a necktie.

"No, dear, I'm afraid djinni don't use phones…but I think I could figure out how to use one if you want to pass your number on to _me_…"

Nathaniel felt faint. He couldn't tell if Bartimaeus was serious or just forcing this discomfort onto him. Either way, he didn't want to find out.

He made a rather hasty, and not particularly graceful exit from the restaurant, deciding that when he became Prime Minister…_because damn it all he would_…romance would be the first thing to go!

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Review Please? It's not a pairing I usually...er...ever write. I'd like to know if it was passable, even if it's not your favorite.


	5. Fragile

Hm...this is...actually way more fluffy than a lot of the other drabbles here...and yet it still managed to end up a bit dark and twisted. How on earth...what I had PLANNED was pure Bart/Nat sillyness. Instead you get Bart/Ptolemy with a follow up of Bart/Nat (yup, both pairings are in this) and Bart is kinda vaguely sadistic?

What?

I dunno. That fluffy plot bunny is still bouncing in my head though. Perhaps it will get out next instead of another of its angst-ridden siblings?

Also...I need to come up with more than a singular word for each chapter...I really should...just hasn't happened lately...

Fragile

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There is something irresistibly breakable about humans. Bartimaeus wishes sometimes that he could deny it, as it tends to cause nothing but trouble.

He'd noticed this before, and while most of the higher beings realize what fragile, shapeable creatures humans are, Bartimaeus was fairly certain he was one of the rare few who found it delightful, in a sickening sort of way.

The thing that first drew him to his former master was his long limbs and slender neck. He loved to press freezing fingers to it, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to be instantly gratified by the purple swelling beneath tanned skin, lessened mercifully by the ice that formed against the pads of his fingertips.

Ptolemy was a masterpiece, flawless and honey colored. He was warm like the desert sand that surrounded them, but soft and malleable and sheer sensuality sliding against Bartimaeus' body.

Ptolemy became so much more over time, more than even a djinni of Bartimaeus' power and wisdom could foresee. With his nubile form came great kindness and an insatiable thirst for knowledge, something most humans cannot contain. If he'd only been a djinni he'd have truly been perfect. If he'd have been a djinni…no…Ptolemy was more than that. Such capacity for life and information. He'd have been an afrit, maybe even a myriad. And Bartimaeus would not even have missed being able to bruise him like an overripe fruit each time they came together in the privacy of Ptolemy's chambers, or in the deserted dunes outside of the city. Bartimaeus liked it there; they could watch the stars until his master fell asleep.

Ptolemy was gone.

Bartimaeus hadn't known a spirit could be so devastated by anything or devastated at all really. He hadn't known that a djinni could love.

The realization was a heavy one to accept.

Decades then centuries past. Bartimaeus wasn't at his best, and he knew it. It was probably a lot to assume that his continued remorse was the reason Prague fell…but Bartimaeus made a living on assuming a lot of himself. That couldn't change, no matter how much he missed Ptolemy.

He coped well. He was a djinni. His not exactly existent heart may have shattered, but he would be the only one to know.

He was no human, he did not bemoan his feelings to the entire population.

Even in the Other Place, where everyone was one, Bartimaeus kept to himself.

He was unchanging in the eyes of others, however many eyes they may have.

But he stopped watching the people.

He viewed his masters that followed Ptolemy with a cynical disinterest. He was witty and charming and unbearably full of himself, but he didn't give a damn about any of them.

He didn't feel the need to wonder what their skin would feel like, rubbed raw beneath sharkskin fingertips, or what their skin would taste like when aroused and peppered with fear as he licked his way up their chests, eyes snake like and dead as he stared into their pallid, expendable souls.

Until now. Well…now being a rather hectic series of years, but it hardly seemed long at all to Bartimaeus, even with all the time he'd spent in the human's realm, so he just lumped it all together as 'now.'

Now began when he first saw that drawn, pale face, still rounded with a false innocence, and now continued all the way through the actual present, staring into that face once more. It was still drawn, still pale, but it had lost all pretense of naivety.

It was sharp and calculating, and any intelligence…to be fair it did contain a good deal…was used to its own advantage, not for the good of anyone else.

If ever there was an opposite of Ptolemy, this boy was it.

And yet…he was sickeningly similar, just similar enough that the differences were all the more glaring. He had questions, though he often answered them himself with far more complicated answers than Bartimaeus would have cared to use. He had dark hair, though it was dusty instead of sleek and silken. He had intelligent eyes but they were as cold and grey as the city surrounding them, while Ptolemy's had been as warm and open as his own homeland.

He was also small and slender, but in awkward angles. Ptolemy had been fluid and graceful. This boy tripped over his own feet, especially when he was nervous.

For the first time in centuries Bartimaeus had found himself watching a human again.

Ptolemy had been so painfully human despite his inhuman understanding and kindness. He'd been human and he'd broken just as all humans had. Humans were meant to be broken, Bartimaeus couldn't pretend that he hadn't wanted to break Ptolemy at some point in time himself.

But towards the end that had changed. And he'd gone from wanting to break him to being willing to do anything within his power to keep him whole.

The pale, almost sickly form lying beneath him was just as fragile, perhaps even more so as years of athletic training had at least given Ptolemy good health…he was almost grey in the pale moonlight shining in through the dusty window. The shadows played beautifully over his naked form, deep blue and black, like bruises mapping his skin.

It is the dream of every spirit called into servitude to have power over their human masters. Bartimaeus' fantasy was just more sexual than most. And Bartimaeus couldn't deny that he'd be beautiful broken. He'd be splendid, his mouth open in a suspended gasp, his small chest arched forward in either pain or pleasure, both could break him…

But…but even so…even knowing how delicious he'd be…even knowing that in this moment, when there were no pentacles or spells, when Nathaniel was not in control of anything at all…he couldn't bring himself to want that as much as he should.

Because now, as Nathaniel…though he wasn't allowed to call him that in public…stroked his hair…he was still stupidly naïve enough to do so, even with his accumulation of years…and pressed his cheek sleepily to the tanned skin of Ptolemy's form…

…Bartimaeus found himself wanting to keep someone whole once more.

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So...it ends up as...angsty-fluff? I don't even know how to categorize this one.

Review Please? O_o


	6. Party Favors

Well, it's been a while since I updated this, hasn't it? Not because I love the series any less...I actually just wasn't sure if anyone was going to be interested in me continuing to be honest. And that made me feel guilty because I dislike when people stop writing because of review status and while that's not what I did, it felt close enough that I decided I needed to keep updating until **I** felt that it was here's a bit of silly Bart/Nat for anyone who's still interested. Real life angst actually tends to make me write fluff. Weird. Or maybe not? Anyway, here it is.

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Party Favors

* * *

Nathaniel glanced nervously over his shoulder every few minutes, spending the rest of the time, gazing just past the shoulder of the overly dressed woman speaking to him.

He'd managed to lose sight of Bartimaeus.

At the biggest black tie event of the year, a make or break affair for up and coming members of the Ministry…like himself.

And now he had a djinni who loved nothing more than to terrorize him floating around somewhere.

No one was screaming, bursting into flames or seizuring on the floor though…so perhaps Bartimaeus was just sulking. He hadn't wanted to attend. He'd said so. Nathaniel hadn't personally wanted him to either, but people expected to see them together now. After Bartimaeus' key role in destroying the Gollum a few months prior, he was something of a talking point.

"Mr. Mandrake?" The woman repeated. Nathaniel blinked, dazed. "Sorry m'am, I didn't catch that…" he said, bowing his head quickly in apology.

She nodded; not seeming offended…that probably took intelligence. "I was asking if our Mr. Mandrake was seeing anyone lately."

The images that instantly flooded Nathaniel's mind were mercifully not spewed carelessly from his mouth. Despite his location, he couldn't stop the sensation of inhumanly strong arms tightening around him or even white teeth biting down on his shoulder.

"Not…not at the moment." He said quickly. "Work comes first what with all that's been going on and all." He added, recovering himself.

She smiled, nodding again, pleased with his answer for two reasons…one it was the sort of thing you wanted to hear members of your government say…and two it meant she could start gossiping and trying to guess who he'd end up with. He groaned inwardly.

"Not seeing anyone." She repeated for clarity. "You're sure?"

Nathaniel bit back a scathing remark. Hadn't he just said…

"Oh is that what he's telling you?" A laughing voice cut in. Nathaniel paled…something that was difficult for someone who had hardly any pigment to start with.

The woman turned sharply, and to his credit, Bartimaeus made a very nice picture to find oneself looking at.

He'd switched from his previous sulking form of a ruffled bluebird to…to this.

He was in Ptolemy's form, for the most part…though his skin seemed to glisten a bit more than usual…oh yes, that was really human and not in the least suspicious…Nathaniel noted dryly amidst his growing horror. He'd filled the boyish body out a bit more, giving himself a more muscular appearance while still retaining the slender build that Nathaniel had grown used to. His hair was cut in the artfully messy fashion that women of this era inexplicably loved.

And his clothes…Nathaniel wanted to shrivel up and die, because he could tell what was going to happen already and was powerless to stop it, he'd felt Bartimaeus' power seep around him just in time for him not to be able to stop it, and it was all going to happen with Bartimaeus wearing these clothes…

He'd donned a red silk shirt, the top few buttons carelessly undone to reveal just enough skin, impossibly tight black pants…Nathaniel realized with chagrin that they'd been modeled after a pair of his own, and designer shoes, impeccably buffed and polished. He'd even added an expensive wristwatch.

"Oh?" The woman asked, regaining her ability to speak. Nathaniel's throat mercilessly refused to move and let him form the words that would shoo Bartimaeus off. She looked the djinni up and down; obviously unable to tell that he was anything but an exceptionally gorgeous human. An exceptionally gorgeous human who obviously knew something about Nathaniel that the magician hadn't said. "Is our dear Mr. Mandrake telling lies? Is he seeing someone? It's that girl with the police force, isn't it? Or his secretary…what was her name…"

Bartimaeus laughed and it was deep and rich and so perfect that Nathaniel wanted to hit him.

"Oh no my lovely lady, I'm afraid he's quite unavailable to either of them. Has a bit of a different preference if you catch my drift." He said, raising one eyebrow with a smirk.

Her face turned red and her eyes fairly shimmered with excitement. She was already formulating the most dramatic way to spread this news, Nathaniel could tell.

"Any…anyone in particular?" She gasped.

Bartimaeus gave her a devilish little grin, taking her gloved hand and kissing it with a flourish.

Nathaniel got his mouth open. He had to stop what was coming next…

"Me of course, who else?" Bartimaeus beamed at her.

The metaphorical floor came crashing out from under Nathaniel.

"Ohhh!" She cooed, obviously imagining…things…completely true things, but things Nathaniel never ever wanted her to know about.

Or anyone for that matter.

Bartimaeus draped a seemingly loving, but in reality quite taunting arm over Nathaniel, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Most assuredly milady." He said with all the elegance and poise that Nathaniel had demanded he maintain that night.

Be polite, be elegant, be refined, be endearing…behave…but technically Bartimaeus was doing all of the things Nathaniel had listed…he hadn't though to add this to that list.

"Well…well how very wonderful for both of you!" She gasped. "Excuse me…I would be…remiss…if I only talked to two people the entire party!" She spluttered, rushing off.

"I hate you. So much." Nathaniel said flatly. "You do realize that even if she was too stupid to realize you aren't human, someone she tells probably will?"

"I told you not to make me come." Bartimaeus said, all elegance gone, his own voice equally flat.

"Oh I won't." Nathaniel hissed. "Not for a very long time."

If he'd been able to assure that, it might have been a more effective threat. But Bartimaeus had all the wiles and charm that his inhuman kind possessed…Nathaniel would be breaking that vow by the end of the night…and if Bartimaeus had his way, by the end of the hour in the very ample coat room just a little ways away.

* * *

And a little pun for the end! Also, I'm not sure if seizuring is a word. I think it's supposed to be seizing, but that didn't really sound the way I wanted it to.

**Review Please**


	7. A First Time For Everything

Wow, I hadn't realized how long it had been since I updated this series. D:

I have this one and another and I DO have more inspiration (just got the entire series in hardback finally, my paperbacks were in baaaad shape)

I'll try and not be months and months before updating again if anyone's still reading after this. O_o

* * *

A First Time For Everything

* * *

Nathaniel has been planning this for months.

Meticulously, painstakingly, repetitively working out every bit of the procedure, pouring his entire intellectual prowess into perfecting this one moment.

And now it's here.

Bartimaeus is mere inches from him, head tilted in confusion and annoyance. Nathaniel has called him and has not spoken.

Nathaniel is never silent for long.

At least not when results Bartimaeus approves of are on the way.

If he waits much longer, his calculated window will be gone and he knows Bartimaeus will break the silence with some sort of snide remark or rude gesture.

He'll ruin it.

The time frame is vanishing fast. He only allowed for a few seconds hesitation in his planning and he's taken that already.

He just hadn't realized how difficult it would be when face to face with Bartimaeus…especially when he's in his favorite form, Ptolemy's intelligent, kohl lined eyes staring at him from an aristocratically angular face.

There is no time for this.

Hastily, clumsily, nothing like what he planned to be sure, Nathaniel leans forward, forehead bumping against Bartimaeus' as he presses their faces close and their lips together. His are slightly chapped and far too warm. Bartimaeus' are cool and smooth, energy and electricity pulsing just beyond the false skin.

They send a jolt straight through Nathaniel's body and the sensation is a drug, addicting him instantly and emboldening him enough that he moves closer, one pale, spidery hand clutching at Bartimaeus' hair, fragile and tentative, but earnest.

The djinni is completely still for a moment before he responds, thin lips parting and allowing Nathaniel to slid his tongue in…it stays still for a moment, pressed against Bartimaeus'…his tongue is the exact same texture as his lips. Smooth, cool and alive with magic. Not flesh of any kind but wonderful all the same, perhaps even more so.

Nathaniel doesn't know what to do now. Nathaniel has never been kissed before. He's never kissed anyone before. Nearly everyone in London knows his name, he's a prodigy for his age, flying up the ranks in the Ministry and he's never done so much as touch another human being any more intimately than to shake hands or to break a fall.

Bartimaeus knows this of course, he's been here since the very beginning, hasn't he? Those wonderful, inhuman lips curl into a grin and then the cool tongue is moving, guiding Nathaniel's own normal one, wet and hot and suddenly far too thick and clumsy. It moves like an entirely sentient being, free of both of them, twisting and pressing against nearly every part of Nathaniel's mouth, wrapping around Nathaniel's and leading it in an intricate but thoughtless dance, their mouths are pressed tightly together now and Nathaniel's not thinking clearly enough to be afraid anymore, he's moved one hand to the small of the slender back of the body pressed to his, his other hand now fisting firmly in silky black hair.

Nathaniel has to breathe, Bartimaeus doesn't, and for a moment or two Nathaniel supposes he just might die because there's no way he's going to be able to pull away and he'll be amazed later at how accepting he is of that fact.

Bartimaeus saves him though, drawing back, pulling them apart and licking his lips thoughtfully.

"Huh. That was weird. Never done that before." He says, stretching carelessly as though what they've just done hasn't changed anything, as though he hasn't just tilted Nathaniel's world sideways…as though…

…as though it means nothing at all.

And Nathaniel realizes with a dull ache in his chest as Bartimaeus wanders across the room, cat like and carefree, that as far as Bartimaeus is concerned it really doesn't.

* * *

Making Nat angsty is just so _easy_. But the last one I posted was silly and the other one I have written is as well, so this should separate those a bit?

Review Please!


	8. Of Succubi

I don't update for months and then I update like...the next day? I know, I'm horrible. Or something. But I'm feeling quite inspired with the arrival of my hardbacks, so I'm spewing drabbles all over the place.

I've also begun the shaky outlines of what could be a multi-chapter something if anyone is interested? (By multi-chapter I don't mean anything epic...four to six chapters probably) It would be angst and humor which is apparently what I do best, oddly enough blended together. There may or may not be a happy ending after all of that, because I still haven't finished plotting. Let me know if you're interested?

THIS drabble however was written specifically to give poor Nat the "happy kiss ending" he didn't get in the last one. Because I do feel bad for him from time to time, magician or no.

* * *

Of Succubi

* * *

Nathaniel walked quickly down the grimy sidewalk, face flushed an embarrassing pink. All he'd wanted was a nice quiet dinner somewhere other than the corner of his room, but from now on he was definitely just going to stick out the monotony. He hadn't even gotten to eat his meal. The waitress had fairly planted his face in her ample bosom upon bringing him his tea and by the time she'd slipped him her number alongside his appetizer, he really wasn't hungry anymore. He'd fled, leaving more money than his unfinished meal was worth on the table and darted out into the streets of London, disgruntled and ready to just head home.

…as he ran into his second pair of oversized breasts for the night and began to wonder if he was just cursed to be surrounded by the damn things, he was interrupted by a musical laugh. He looked up, and disinterested or not, his breath caught in his throat, because the woman he was staring at was absolutely gorgeous.

She was also, if her alluring smile and clothing were any indication, a prostitute.

Nathaniel balked. No matter what other boys his age had done, Nathaniel hadn't explored sexuality in the least. _Really_. He found the idea of masturbation unappealing and since he'd really only ever been interested in one…_person_…that word worked…he'd just put that sort of thing from his mind as best he could.

Her lips quirked into a smirk. "You're an adorable little thing, aren't you?" She asked, leaning closer.

"No…and…no thank you." He said, cutting off any offer she might give.

"Well that's no fun." She said, curving her full lips into a pout. "Corrupting the innocent is my specialty, I'm sure you'd have a good time..."

"Up until you pull his intestines out through his cute little backside, right?" A lazy drawling voice supplied and Nathaniel tensed. He knew that voice. He heard that voice in his sleep…

"Do I know you?" The woman asked, her voice far less sweet as she straightened up to glare at the Egyptian boy staring her levelly down.

"Go on sweetheart, don't make me hurt you." Bartimaeus cooed, white teeth flashing in a smile as the woman's eyes bled from an attractive green to a sinister reddish purple.

"You aren't all that strong." She said flatly.

"First of all, am so, second of all, you aren't all that attractive. Your frills are drooping a bit on the fifth plane and I do believe they might even be going a bit blue on the sixth…" Bartimaeus said, peering at her. "I'm sure my master's first succubus should be better than you."

Affronted, but not aiming to get into a fight with her own kind when she could simply find an unguarded victim elsewhere, she swept at him with suddenly clawed hands before vanishing in a puff of intoxicatingly sweet smoke.

Bartimaeus rolled his eyes and bent down to lift up the unconscious magician laying at his feet…he'd forgotten about the aftereffects that smoke tended to have on humans…well human men.

He carried the limp form back to his own bedroom, dumping it unceremoniously against the mattress.

Nathaniel woke a few minutes later, spluttering and shaken. "That was a succubus?" He asked meekly, looking pale and drawn…well, more so than usual.

"Tarty things aren't they?" Bartimaeus asked conversationally, leaning his elbow against Nathaniel's shoulder.

"Why'd you make her leave? I didn't tell you to…"

"Oh _please_ don't tell me you _wanted_-"

"NO! I mean…no, of course not, she's not my type…at all…"

"Obviously." Bartimaeus snorted.

"What does _that_ mean?" Nathaniel huffed.

"You're queerer than a Christmas tree in August for one thing." Bartimaeus offered. "I doubt you'd have let her do more than kiss you before you managed to get away…thing about succubi is they don't actually _like_ men that don't like them…but I figured your first kiss should probably be from a human, right? Nice and proper?"

Nathaniel looked up sharply. "What if I don't want it to be?" He asked, his voice taking a strange and uncertain tone.

Bartimaeus looked up curiously. "You do realize demons aren't like those stupid, vapid actors who play them in Makepeace's plays…"

"I know." Nathaniel said, swallowing thickly. "Especially…especially this one…he's…brilliant even if I don't want to admit it, and stronger than I can always contain…braver than he'd like me to know…I think I'd very much like to kiss him, even if he is dangerous…even if he is dangerous and _hates_ me…" He trailed off, his voice failing him. That was as close as he was ever going to manage to get himself to telling Bartimaeus what he wanted to say and he'd still fallen short. He'd probably managed to thoroughly humiliate himself anyway though…and with nothing to show for it.

"Oh yeah?" Bartimaeus asked, tilting his head. "I kind of wanted to kiss this human recently…he's not as brilliant as he thinks, not strong at all…not really brave, but he's usually pretty honest so that makes up for it…despite all that, I still think I might like to kiss him…for some insane reason he _doesn't_ seem to hate me…"

Nathaniel wasn't entirely sure if he should be offended, hopelessly delighted, or simply quiet as Bartimaeus was possibly talking about someone else.

He wasn't, and he made that clear as he leaned forward, taking Nathaniel's chin in his hand and tilting the pale, angular face upward before moving closer and closing his mouth over the trembling lips beneath it.

Nathaniel, for all his harsh words and desperate attempts to preserve his safety and dignity, was putty in Bartimaeus' hands, falling limply forward for the second time that night, once more at the mercy of the djinni in front of him. A tiny, uncertain mewl even escaped him and it was so uncharacteristically adorable of him that Bartimaeus really had no choice but to pull him into his lap and hold him in place as he deepened the kiss.

* * *

I dearly love the idea of Nathaniel mewling, you have no idea. It's one of those miniscule fandom fetishes that hardly even counts as a fetish because it's so small and specific...

Anyway! Review please, reviews are good for the soul and not just mine, yours too, I swear! And let me know if you think me capable of taking on a multi-chapter something for these two...plot is a scary thing for those of us who predominantly write in drabbles...


	9. Truth In Dreams

I suggest no one complain about the frequency of my updates. There's no telling how long it will last...O.o

This one...could have ended differently, but I decided against it.

* * *

Truth in Dreams

* * *

Bartimaeus disliked hotel rooms. They always reeked of far too many human inhabitants. And with his recent master, hotels meant they were probably in the middle of something dangerous. Nathaniel didn't leave his posh little apartment if he could help it. In fact, with the exception of the steps of Parliament, Bartimaeus had only ever seen him sleep in his own bedroom unless they were in one of these damnable places.

…and that time hadn't really counted as sleeping so much as having a surprisingly strong old lady beat him over the head with a rock, causing him to pass out instantly.

…alright, so it had been Bartimaeus, but Nathaniel had never found that out, and it really had been for his own good, crumpling and rolling down several stairs had kept him from being devoured by the demon that had been chasing them, it had swallowed a lamppost instead.

The _point_ was, nothing good ever came out of spending the night in hotels.

Especially recently, since Nathaniel had gotten the absurd idea that for his maximum safety, Bartimaeus should actually stay in the bed with him during this trip. This probably meant it was more dangerous or something, though Nathaniel hadn't mentioned that…the little worm usually liked to spell out what sorts of terrors Bartimaeus could be subjected to.

Bartimaeus had done this sort of thing before of course…but for really important people, like emperors…not scrawny little kids who thought too much of themselves.

And the previous masters who'd required that had been fine, and actually preferred, him to take a small, inconspicuous shape like a beetle or a mouse perhaps. That way he was unseen until it was too late by attackers…and they didn't have the awkward situation that came from waking up next to something pretending to be human.

Nathaniel was rather daft though, and that had apparently never occurred to him, because in his reasoning Bartimaeus should remain in Ptolemy's form because…something, Bartimaeus had been a bit too eager to argue to actually listen to the logic.

No doubt it was flawless…at least in Nathaniel's mind.

Bartimaeus had initially wished the bed would be a bit bigger, their elbows brushed even with the djinni wiggling as close to his edge as he could.

Two hours into it though, he supposed the room could be one giant bleeding bed for all the good it would do. Nathaniel would apparently still gravitate toward him and drape his skinny, unwanted little form all over him.

It had started with an arm which Bartimaeus had pushed away forcefully, hoping to wake him up.

He hadn't. Some magician this kid was…he'd just sighed and rolled back to his side.

Later it was both arms and a leg and at the moment he was basically using Bartimaeus as a mattress rather than the actual supplied one. His bony little backside was the only thing still hanging off of the djinni; everything else was wrapped or sprawled across him somehow.

And he wouldn't wake up. Bartimaeus had tried glowing, speaking, poking and rolling over…he wasn't allowed to actually hurt him, or this might have gone better…

His pale face, features far too sharp for someone his age…he really needed to eat more, was pressed against the tanned neck of Ptolemy's form.

Tucked there. Nathaniel's head was tucked under his chin. Like…like a…_lover_ or something.

_Lovely_. He'd never live this down if something was sent to assassinate him…no doubt it would turn right around before Bartimaeus could untangle himself from Nathaniel.

There wasn't a punishment in the world that wouldn't be worth facing if it meant getting out alive to spread the word about another demon's humiliation like that…Bartimaeus certainly would be willing to accept it if he were in the position to have that sort of information over another demon…

He felt Nathaniel's lips part, brushing softly against the false skin of his neck. Was he waking up? Was he going to speak?

…oh what luck He _drooled_.

Bartimaeus couldn't wait to tell him this in the morning, though the idea of having to leave dried saliva on his neck as proof was unappealing.

Around hour four of this entire ordeal, just as Bartimaeus was wondering why he didn't just change into something else anyway…would Nathaniel even notice? He could be up and Ptolemy before the boy ever woke up…Nathaniel began to mumble.

His fingers were twitching and tugging at Bartimaeus' arm and he was whispering something so softly that it was hard to discern.

"What was that?" Bartimaeus asked conversationally, finding a new way to entertain himself.

"Said m'sorry you dun' like it." Nathaniel slurred, the words harder to enunciate without the majority of his active brain backing them up. Hm, he was still asleep, interestingly enough…Nathaniel wasn't a sleep talker, and Bartimaeus would have known, he'd ended up at least in the same room as the young magician quite a lot in the last few months.

"Don't like what?" Bartimaeus asked, pulling his arm away from the feeble grasp.

"Doin' this fer me. But it's th'only way…" Nathaniel rubbed his face against Bartimaeus' neck…he could just _feel _the now cold saliva getting smeared around…

"The only way for what?" Bartimaeus asked, a bit annoyed by that on top of the annoyance of having Nathaniel sleeping on top of him. "I'm perfectly capable of guarding you without doing this."

"Nuh-uh, s'not it." Nathaniel's fingers crept back to their tentative position on his arm.

Bartimaeus allowed himself a mental giggle at the word "snot" before speaking again.

"What is it then? Because you smell all fruity from the millions of girly bath things you use, and you're using me as a mattress and spewing your nasty bodily fluids all over me in the process." Bartimaeus said acidly.

"I am?" Nathaniel asked, sounding dismayed, even with his voice being so distant. "But I din'vn have th' dream 'gain…"

Bartimaeus became a lot more interested in their half-discussion now. He'd meant saliva obviously, but apparently dear Nathaniel had a guilty conscious as he'd interpreted that in an entirely different way.

"Dream? Goodness, I didn't know my dear master had it in him…literally, I was expecting there to be girl bits down there…who were you dreaming about? Please don't say Kitty, I actually find her decent, this would ruin it…don't say that Farrar girl either though, she's dreadful, even for you…"

Nathaniel's nose wrinkled against the crook of his neck. "_No_, s'you."

Bartimaeus paled, nearly all the color drawn from him.

It was a long time before he spoke again.

"_Me_?"

"Mm, yeah." Nathaniel whispered. "S'why I's sayin' sorry 'm making you do this…I jus'…didn't know…how else…t'be close. S'driving me crazy not bein' close…n'cause I…" Nathaniel faltered here as though struggling. Did people struggle with words even in their sleep? "Cause I love you."

Bartimaeus sat up swiftly, not caring that it jarred the human atop him. Nathaniel slid down his chest, head lolling to one side.

Despite his current existence being titled sideways by what Nathaniel had said, Bartimaeus surveyed this with a different set of problems. No one should sleep that deeply.

He tilted his head; pressing a finger to those parted lips and pulling them open, leaning so that his own almost brushed them as he tasted the air around them. The crackling, bitter, and almost silvery taste of truth serum made him recoil.

He'd personally smelt everything Nathaniel had had for dinner…how had that happened? It explained a lot though…Nathaniel wasn't talking in his sleep, he'd been trying to wake himself up for hours, but was so out of his head that he probably had no sense of what awake or asleep was much less where he was, who he was laying on top of, or anything specific like that.

He was though, Bartimaeus realized with a sinking feeling, being absolutely honest about everything he was saying.

Nathaniel was in love with him. It was possible that he didn't even consciously comprehend it, but the feeling was there, and it was absolute. The serum, however it had been administered had no doubt been to extract information about his business here, maybe even his true name, but instead…

…though that did lead him to wonder why no one had come to take advantage of the serum's effects yet.

Just as he was contemplating, trembling little imp stuck its head in through the window. Well there was the information gatherer…late, no doubt…

Bartimaeus didn't know who'd sent it and he was too ruffled and angry to care. He didn't make it a habit of eating weaker demons, but it made him feel a tiny bit better to do so.

Threat taken care of, now all there was to do was to wait for the effect to wear off. He supposed now would be a good time to get more clarity about this, but he was still in shock. Nathaniel wasn't supposed to love him. There was a _reason_ humans didn't fall in love with demons. The humans always ended up dead. If the demon loved the human back, chances were the death would come even faster.

Bartimaeus had more experience with this than he'd ever wanted. He didn't want it again…which wouldn't have been a problem if Nathaniel had only stayed even the slightest bit sane…

He did manage one more carefully thought out question though, for the sake of having something to say.

Another two hours of awkward, tense silence later, Nathaniel began to move again, not the sluggish, dreamlike movements of before, but sharp, desperate struggling as his body allowed his mind to become aware of what was going on.

Another few minutes and his eyes were open; pupils dilated abnormally, but open all the same. "Bartimaeus?" He gasped out, sounding even younger than he actually was.

"Here." Bartimaeus said dully. "Are you coherent?"

"Y-yes." Nathaniel said slowly, pawing at the air as he tried to keep himself from toppling over. Bartimaeus caught him distractedly. "What did you eat? Or drink, or whatever, without letting me check it?" He asked and he could tell the already shaken boy was unnerved by his tone.

"The chocolates they left on the pillow." He said, and at least he seemed to have the decency to feel stupid.

"Do you know what it did to you?" Bartimaeus asked.

"No. Made me sleep. I couldn't wake up…but not exactly, no." Nathaniel said quietly.

"It was a truth serum. Had you been questioned by whoever drugged you you'd have told them anything they asked." Bartimaeus supplied, though of course Nathaniel knew the general idea of what a truth serum did.

"Did anyone…"

"Sent an imp. It's taken care of."

"Thank you…" Nathaniel almost sounded sincere. Bartimaeus supposed he might actually be, now that he knew how Nathaniel actually felt.

"Did I…say anything? To you?" Bless his pathetic little human existence; he _did_ know consciously, he was paranoid about it…

"Yeah." Bartimaeus said softly. Nathaniel tensed.

"What?"

"You wet the bed until you were eight." Bartimaeus said, grinning broadly. Nathaniel made an indignant squawk of protest, but let Bartimaeus' strong hand push him back against the bed. "Now get some real sleep. You'll find nothing you've had so far tonight will really rest you."

Nathaniel nodded, looking dazed and relieved. He was asleep five minutes later, curled against Bartimaeus' side once more. The djinni didn't bother attempting to push him away, even if he'd be woken easily this time.

Bartimaeus watched him for a very long time after that…the sun was already rising by the time he looked away.

Nathaniel loved him. If he said something about it…if he admitted to what he'd heard…and to how he himself had come to feel for the boy…perhaps something would come of it.

Perhaps, for the first time since Ptolemy, he'd feel like he had something worth properly existing for.

…and perhaps Nathaniel would end up dead within the week.

No. It wasn't worth it.

If Nathaniel really loved him, that meant he actually trusted Bartimaeus' ability to protect and care for him…

…and since Bartimaeus really loved him in return, he'd keep that his main priority.

* * *

Everyone made out basically what Nat was saying for the most part, right? D:

Review Please!


	10. Oasis

I still love Ptolemy, but I've been giving Nat far more Bartimaeus than I've been giving Ptolemy. And that's just not fair, Ptolemy had him first...so let me begin to even the score! (I've had some that are both Ptolemy and Nathaniel thrown in and I almost always at least vaguely mention Bartimaeus having loved the poor boy...but it's been a while since Ptolemy had his own time with Bartimaeus) Unacceptable! This one's for you Ptolemy...

* * *

Oasis

* * *

The warmth of the sun makes Ptolemy feel weighted and lazy and he suspects that the djinni beside him feels something of the same sort, as different as they are.

The great rolling expanse of desert stretched out before them would be a dangerous place to be if it weren't for Rekhyt's protective presence beside him. They are far enough away from civilization that the village closest to them is nothing more then a blurry black lump that they have no interest in facing.

Ptolemy has to isolate himself like this, in the shade of the oasis, warm but not scalding like the desert around him, otherwise he'd never get any work done at all.

He's become a sort of hero to the people, he and his supposed magic. Rekhyt has warned him against it, but he simply can't stand the thought of turning them away when it is in his power to help them.

If he has to escape to the desert to get some actual work done…it is inconvenient but acceptable.

Being isolated like this has…certain advantages as it is.

He is feeling much too content to do any work now, at peace or not, so he decides to make good of these advantages, reaching out and brushing his fingers across the pad of Rekhyt's foot. The djinni is in the guise of a manservant as it usually is unless it needs to appear smaller. Rekhyt makes an effort to appear average so as not to draw attention to its true nature, but it will always be far too beautiful for that in Ptolemy's opinion. Even when it tries to add flaws to the illusion, they end up wonderful. A face that is a bit too angular becomes completely acceptable…a face any softer and rounder simply would not do. Rekhyt is a work of art, in any form, even in those thankfully sparse fits when a truly fear inspiring form is apparently in order.

The djinni shifts the foot, pretending to peer at a patch of dune grass. Ptolemy applies more pressure to the soft pad with the tips of his fingers, turning over and shifting so that he is lying against one strong thigh.

Rekhyt looks down with an amused quirk on those purposefully not quite perfect lips.

Encouraged, Ptolemy runs a hand over the tanned expanse of skin along the man's side, playing briefly with one dark nipple and wondering even more briefly, if Rekhyt feels the same stimulation he does from having the djinni touch his own nipples, as nipples are a true part of his real form and not of Rekhyt's form.

If not, the djinni still does an admirable job of mimicking the responses Ptolemy often gives to such touching. The abdominal muscles pressed against Ptolemy's knees tighten and one strong hand moves to his slender back, guiding him closer so that his head comes level to his servant's and their lips, perfect or not, can touch.

Kissing Rekhyt is so painfully superior to kissing another human being that the djinni claims to have ruined his young master. Ptolemy agrees with this whole heartedly, not the least bit upset by it. He has tried kissing humans before. Their mouths, while sometimes talented, are flat, bland and boring. Rekhyt's lips are alive with energy and pulsing power, heat and cold surging at him simultaneously, currents like crackling lightening filling his mouth and sweeping through his entire body.

Rekhyt tastes like honey and the air during a storm.

He's asked, a few times, what his own lips are like, why the djinni finds any pleasure in having them as he suspects they are just as bland and mortal as the ones he has tried.

Rekhyt just smiles and shakes its head at this, kissing him quickly to push the question from his mind, enveloping him in the wonderfully inhuman feeling of kissing the djinni until Ptolemy has forgotten.

Until later of course, Ptolemy never forgets anything for very long, especially an unanswered question.

He supposes now would be a good time to ask, as it is the subject of the moment. He finds himself unable to, however. When he pulls back and parts his lips to form the question, Rekhyt pushes him backwards into the silky dune grass and shifting sand, pressing their bodies together. Those lips are freezing and burning and that tongue is equally overwhelming as it pushes past Ptolemy's own slightly bruised lips to ravage his mouth and steal his senses at the same time.

Flexible fingers trace and press nonsensical patterns against his sides, sending blissfully violent shivers throughout his entire body.

As long as Rekhyt is willing, Ptolemy supposes that is a question that perhaps he will leave unanswered.

* * *

I know you've all gotten used to Bart/Nat again and again from me...hopefully at least some of you love this pairing too? As I've said before, I love both and in the time line of my perverted fangirl brain, as far as this series goes, they both happened.

Review Please?


	11. Bear Skin

Something silly to celebrate my finals being over! : D

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Bear Skin

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Bartimaeus sat, unimpressed, as the group of self-important, over dressed magicians mingled together in the stuffy little drawing room. Nathaniel liked to take him to these events as of late…probably as some sort of silent reassurance. As mean as they were to each other, since the beginning of their rather scandalous relationship together Bartimaeus was really the only form of support Nathaniel actually had, no matter how lewd. The poor boy didn't really have friends and the people at these little parties tended to like ganging up on him in conversations…probably because he was still fairly young despite his success…or more likely because he was so young in addition to his success.

Either way, though Nathaniel never admitted it, having Bartimaeus there gave him something else to focus on.

When he was quiet that was. When he talked he had a habit of making things work.

And Bartimaeus loved to talk, so Nathaniel usually managed to keep himself distracted from the verbal barbs of the other magicians by focusing on keeping Bartimaeus quiet.

This worked alright as well though, so Bartimaeus was with him yet again.

These types of functions had the tendency to drag on, especially when one couldn't care less about the happenings, and Bartimaeus soon found himself bored enough to drift over to stand directly beside Nathaniel in a guise that was basically an older version of Ptolemy.

His master was standing in a group, looking a bit put off as another magician…a rather good looking fellow as far as humans went, in his early forties Bartimaeus thought, though he supposed that wasn't relevant…prattled on rather boastfully about his experiences in some place or another.

No one seemed to be able to get in a word edgewise until the man mentioned something about having to slay an enemy djinni with a silver spear while galloping along on horseback across a narrow bridge. Nathaniel scoffed audibly and the man turned to stare at him.

"Have I said something you find unbelievable _Mr_. Mandrake?" The man asked, sneering and emphasizing the boy's title as though he found the idea of addressing him as such to be laughable.

"A djinni isn't that easy to kill." Nathaniel said simply and Bartimaeus couldn't help but feel proud that he'd taught the kid something after all.

"And I'm sure a boy like you knows all about it." The man said dismissively, grinning broadly at the tittering laughter of a few of the ladies standing with them.

"So, as I was saying, there we were, riding as hard as we could, bareback, through bear country…"

"Hold on there buddy." Bartimaeus said, leaning on Nathaniel's shoulder, "I'd wager that Mr. Mandrake knows a good deal more about djinni than you do." He said pleasantly. "While you were riding bareback through bear country, with potentially fictional djinn, this dedicated young magician was riding an _actual_ djinni, bare-_assed_, on a bear skin rug. Top that mate."

He couldn't.

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Nathaniel will be compensated for this embarrassment, I'm sure...u.u

You must wonder where on earth they were though, as I'm sure someone with tastes as modern and refined as Nathaniel wouldn't allow a bear skin rug in his home...

Review Please!


	12. Visiting

Another something kind of short and silly that sprung up when I was actually trying to write something completely different. I try not to put a bunch of silliness all in a row with these things, but since that's what I've been inspired with lately...here you go!

Edit: Found a few typos and fixed them. D: I try, I really do, but they slip by me sometimes.

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Visiting

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When Ms. Jane Farrar pushed past Mr. Mandrake's flustered secretary to go directly to his bedroom, she was expecting several things.

She was expecting that he would soon be quite miserable as she proceeded to light into him about the most recent set back in their latest joint project.

She was expecting him to be flustered by this, and by her as he always was…she made sure of this in fact.

She was expecting him to dislike the reprimanding but be flattered when she, at the end, offered to help him smooth things over.

Keeping little boys like him under her thumb was part of what made her so successful…and there were a surprising number of grown men who were still about as competent as little boys in her opinion.

When Ms. Jane Farrar mounted the stairs and headed up them with quick, brisk steps, she also took several things for granted.

Things she should have perhaps considered before barging into his room, swinging the door wide open.

She took for granted that he would be working on something.

Instead he was sprawled across his bed.

She took for granted that he would be clothed.

Obviously, she was completely mistaken there too, as he was in opposition to her assumption, completely naked…and surprisingly flexible…

She took for granted that he would be alone, perhaps with the exception of that annoying djinni that he was so fond of.

…well in that case she was entirely right, but she'd also taken for granted that the djinni would not be in the middle of rather enthusiastically doing something extremely inappropriate, which Mr. Mandrake was obviously just as enthusiastic about.

What was the word? Oh right. Sex.

She hadn't been expecting that, but upon stumbling into it, she found that all her previous expectations were completely destroyed.

He wasn't going to be miserable about anything for quite some time, if the expression on his face was any indication.

He wasn't going to be flustered…flushed maybe, he already was quite red…but not flustered, and certainly not by her.

And she had the sneaking suspicion that there wasn't much she could do any longer for John Mandrake that would flatter him…compliment him on his clothing maybe…but her arsenal was suddenly severely limited.

Her shock had managed to, mercifully enough, mute the noises around her, but that was ruined by a very effeminate shriek, which certainly hadn't come from the djinni. She looked up to find the esteemed Mr. Mandrake completely unconscious, laid out across the pillows in post coital bliss, a stupid smile tugging at the corners of his pale lips.

The djinni, in its favored form, only a bit older, turned to stare impassively at her with gold flecked eyes. "Did you need something?" He asked, sounding so utterly bored with her presence, that had she not just discovered him pounding away at one of the Ministry's favored members, she probably would have been insulted.

"I suppose not." She said, sounding and feeling as stupid as she was determined Mr. Mandrake still looked.

"Hm, well bugger off then, would you? He's usually in an excellent mood once he comes to, and I really wouldn't want you to ruin that."

Ms. Farrar normally knew how to handle herself instantly in any situation…it had gotten her far in her career. Now though, she could do little more than stand and gawk for a moment more, before doing exactly as he said.

The secretary…Piper, she thought…was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking rather red and worried. "I told you not to go up there." She said skittishly. "Are they done?"

"Y-yes." She managed, hurrying down the stairs and toward the door.

"Oh good, Bartimaeus doesn't care if I peek." She said pleasantly, heading up the stairs with what could almost be called a skip in her step.

Ms. Farrar left the building seriously doubting that she would be visiting again any time soon.

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Tell me Ms. Piper is not a yaoi fangirl. You go ahead and tell me. I will dismiss your reality and replace it with one where she's made an agreement with Bartimaeus that lets her see Nathaniel naked once they're done...

Review Please!


	13. Keeping Up Appearances

More with Ptolemy. ;3 As dear as he is, I think he looks down on his cousin's lifestyle and you'll get a bit of self-righteousness from him here. Of course, in this case I agree with him a bit...his cousin was terrible after all. But anyway. Enjoy.

Also, celebrating 100+ reviews. Thanks so much all of you who helped me get there!

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Keeping Up Appearances

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Ptolemy made his distaste for his surrounds perfectly clear, sitting in the furthest corner of the noisy brothel with his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin on his knees, his body language making it obvious that he did not want to be approached.

His cousin was constantly at odds with him, and his djinn were all at this point advising him to do something to placate the older man, even if Ptolemy himself thought little of it. He didn't see how he was a threat to his cousin and he had no desire for power or Pharaoh status. Rekhyt in particular was almost irritably persistent in informing him that his cousin thought ill of him and mistrusted him.

Finally, once it had gotten to the point that Rekhyt was hardly letting him do his research anymore, Ptolemy had agreed to pay his cousin a visit and spend a few days in his court as a gesture of benevolence and goodwill.

It was as dreadful as he'd feared though. His cousin wasted his days and his mind on hedonistic pleasures and pastimes. Ptolemy saw no great scholars or intellectuals in his cousin's court. There were a few holy men who were probably wise and often stood to the side during the revelry, but their minds were clouded with ambition and sycophancy, any furthering of their intelligence was done in ways to best move them up toward greater positions of power.

Such love of worldly things did his cousin have. He would praise good wine and beautiful women, carelessly overpay players and false magicians for their cheap entertainment. He gave no pause to commend the hard working servants of his home or city; he was easily bored by talk of the latest medical advances and had no wish to see the revolutionary healers who made these discoveries, unless he himself was feeling ill.

His disregard for those around him made Ptolemy feel ill. Worse still, he did not have his djinn with him. He was used to having at least one of them, even if it was not his favored Rekhyt. He'd grown so accustomed to their view of the world that now that he found himself sharing in their cynicism of humankind more than ever but without them to commiserate with, he feared he'd go mad.

Rekhyt had promised it would be close by, but warned him that he should not look for any signs of it, as his cousin already mistrusted his magical abilities. It would be best to appear as though he had none.

And so he was dragged to bath houses, to plays, to drinking halls and to brothels, all as disgusting and ignorant as the one he found himself in now, with no sign of more intelligent life, and certainly no sign of his Rekhyt.

His cousin was somewhere further into the place, no doubt in a private room surrounded by the heavily painted and scantily clad women that Ptolemy himself had no interest in. He'd probably even have a few of his mindless followers along with him to cheer him on.

If this was how the Pharaohs lived, Ptolemy was certainly glad that unseen others seemed to be the ones truly keeping their vast empire together. It couldn't be the royalty themselves, or they'd have gone to ruin long ago.

A slight girl, probably not much older than himself, but, cursed perhaps, with ample breasts that made her suited for this life, approached him, bowing and offering food and drink, and her services as well no doubt. Ptolemy shook his head and waved her away, curling his arms tighter around his legs.

She wandered off, quickly picked off by someone else and Ptolemy went back to his self righteous indigence.

It wasn't long however, before the soft sound of bare feet approaching him made him look up, already opening his mouth to snap at the next girl who tried to coax him out…they probably were so persistent because of how well his cousin and his court usually paid…

…the woman smiling down at him wasn't the same as the others though. Her features were flawed pointedly, she'd have been absolutely perfect save for a few careful changes…her eyes were a bit large and bright wide and her hips a bit too wide for her narrow waist. She seemed unhurried and unconcerned by her surroundings, despite the way the other women hurried about, eager to please. Her scant clothing was unsoiled by spilt drink or other, less pleasant refuse.

She wasn't human and for half a moment Ptolemy wondered if he should worry for his life. But then he remember Rekhyt's promise to watch over him, and remembering that made him remember that Rekhyt liked to make the women he pretended to be have wide hips and large breasts, and that their eyes were always just a bit too wide and bright.

For the first time since he arrived at court, Ptolemy smiled.

"I work on tips." She said, her voice just the perfect sultry tone.

"I'm sure you do." Ptolemy said, standing. "But I am difficult to please."

"I think I can manage." She said easily, taking his hand and pulling him off toward one of the back rooms. His cousin, exiting one himself, clapped his back hard, making a noise of approval before heading back toward the front to order more wine and different women.

Ptolemy stumbled, catching himself and letting her lead him past. "You timed that."

"Sleeping with humans makes you seem more human." The woman said, dropping her guise as the door shut and becoming the lithe Egyptian man that he usually was in the privacy of Ptolemy's chambers back home. "Sleeping with human women makes you all the more acceptable."

"And what if I prefer neither women nor humans?" Ptolemy asked, his hands moving to slip his own clothing off as Rekhyt pushed the bar locking the door into place.

"Then you prefer them in private." Rekhyt said. "And you make me very happy in the process."

"I think I can manage that." Ptolemy said, a bit breathlessly as Rekhyt bent the man's head down to press hot kisses to his shoulder, pushing him toward the provided bed.

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I write Nat more, but I think Ptolemy actually has gotten more action from Bartimaeus throughout this series. Hmmm...

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Review Please!**


	14. Self Esteem

More Nat...letting him get something this time. It's easy to forget how young Nat was in this...he never grew out of being a teenager...so here's something from the more childish mindset of Nat, which we don't often see with how fast he tried to grow up and all.

I am still writing/plotting that multi-chapter idea, my stuff got put on hold because I got into a wreck (their fault, not mine, I was broadsided XP) but I'm back now!

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Self Esteem

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Nathaniel sighed heavily, stepping out of the now tepid bathwater and wrapping himself in a soft towel. He scrubbed himself dry as he walked back into his bedroom from the adjoining bathroom, moving toward the clothes he'd set out for himself.

They were crisply pressed and immaculately placed, even before he put them on.

He reached for his underwear, pausing as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Frowning, he tilted his head and gave himself a critical once over. He was far too pale…too much time spent indoors and in pentacles furthered the whitening of a complexion already made pale by the bleak English weather.

He was too thin. His work was prioritized before anything else, even meals. He wasn't dangerously underweight, but despite growing older and filling out a bit, he still had the appearance of a lanky boy rather than a powerful government official and he knew it. His rivals knew it. If Jane Farrar didn't mention it in some subtle, barbing way at least twice each time they met he'd begin to feel suspicious.

His hair was shorter and not as prone to looking unkempt or unclean as it had a few years ago…but it was starting to grow out again, no longer had the close military crop he'd aimed for. It wasn't that his ploy for approval was no longer necessary…he needed supporters now more than ever…it was just that he hadn't had _time_ to get it cut again.

His face was too angular and his eyes too wide, it made him appear more innocent than he was…and he was, regretfully quite innocent when it came to many things. Politics he knew, but outside of that he was inexperienced in nearly everything.

…with the way things had been going lately he was beginning to suspect that even his prowess in the political field was failing him.

His gaze dropped unhappily at the thought and this led him to take notice of another part of his anatomy that he generally tried to ignore as much as possible. He didn't even have time for a haircut these days, much less…anything associated with this particular appendage.

Despite this, his found himself slipping one pale hand between his legs to lift up the limp flesh and turn it slightly, studying it.

Nathaniel didn't make a habit of peeking at other men…or anyone for that matter…so he wasn't really sure if he was…adequately sized.

He hardly knew how to find out either…books on anatomy had sketches that dated back to Ancient Greece. What if size had…changed or something…since then?

It wasn't like he could _ask_ anyone, the very thought was humiliating.

"It looks fine you know, it's probably just scared, 'cause you're the one touching it."

Nathaniel literally jumped, yanking his hand away and spinning…an admittedly stupid reaction…to stare at the intruder.

Bartimaeus.

Oh.

"I didn't realize you were going to be putting on a show for me." The djinni said, smirking and moving to wrap his arms around Nathaniel's torso, pulling the slight form against his own.

"I wasn't." Nathaniel protested, attempting to be commanding and firm, but Bartimaeus' hands had replaced his own clumsy ones and he couldn't seem to get the tone right, nor did he care.

He was crumpling his own clothes, he knew, as Bartimaeus lay him back against the bed and climbed atop him, but he couldn't seem to care all that much about that either.

Bartimaeus had seen the world, again and again in his lifetime, in ways that Nathaniel could only begin to speculate about and never fully comprehend…if he, after all that, found something desirable in Nathaniel, he supposed he must not be all that bad.

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**Review Please!**


	15. Swimming Lessons

Some creepily cute fluff inspired by a discussion with **Nickel Xenon** about the little mention in the first book of Nat being sent to swimming lessons and how adorable he must have looked. The part in the book said he was shy and didn't talk to the other kids and they didn't like him. From there we discussed the idea of Nat pouting at the beach...and I filled in the rest. You might also remember that his instructors called him "Underwood" until he received a name. X3 Hope you enjoy!

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Swimming Lessons

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"Underwood…_Underwood!_"

Nathaniel's head snapped to attention and he blinked, realizing that the instructor had been addressing him. He didn't suppose he'd ever get used to being called by his Master's name…but he was four years away from his own name, so Underwood it was.

"Sorry sir…"

"Your group is up for laps, Underwood." The man said gruffly, giving him a stern, unfriendly stare. Nathaniel wasn't all that well liked here. He was too timid to speak to the other children and was ostracized because of that…if he wouldn't open up in the carefree, cheerful way children were wont to do, he was clearly not to be trusted. He suspected the instructor didn't like him because he was smaller than the other boys, with thin limbs, pale skin and wide, feminine eyes. He wasn't good at laps, and he probably wouldn't be good at any other sort of sport either.

But his master sent him here, so he was determined to get through it, even if it was an altogether miserable ordeal.

He moved up to the side of the pool, pressing his feet side by side, staring down at his little, white toes which tended to twitch of their own accord when he was forced into this.

The instructor's whistle was blown and the children leapt into the water, splashing off toward the other side. Nathaniel had the tendency to flounder about until the others were ahead of him so that he didn't have to risk hitting one accidentally…he sort of drifted to the left when he swam and it made the others angry when they were suddenly knocked out of line by his small, flailing form.

…unfortunately some of the faster boys liked to lag behind, yank him underwater and then speed ahead of him and beat the others anyway.

This was the case today again as he suddenly found his body plunging downward, a strong grip on one slender ankle tugging him downward. He felt the larger boy's body vault over him as he sunk down, torpedoing ahead to race the others now that his few second sacrifice was made at the expense of the strange, dark haired child that never spoke.

Nathaniel thought he might die every time…and sometimes he supposed maybe he should have. The instructor inevitably came in after him when it was clear that, for all his thrashing, he wasn't going to right himself.

The end result was always the same. Nathaniel was hauled out, dripping wet, his hair plastered to his head, with his ears sticking out and red from embarrassment.

The others laughed and the instructor couldn't help but smirk, setting the boy down in his own little puddle of chlorine and humiliation…

* * *

"Hey…_Hey!_"

Nathaniel blinked, looking up quickly.

"So do you actually swim, or do you just sit here like a lump?" Bartimaeus asked, flopping down into the sand next to him. He'd been dragged out to the beach with Jane Farrar and one of her younger cousins…who was so similar in personality that he now had a headache. He wasn't really sure what her motive was…he was fairly sure she didn't actually like him, and she and the cousin had headed out into the water to get nice and wet before coming to lay out on their towels and look appealing…according to Bartimaeus, he'd been trying not to look at them.

Nathaniel was on his own towel, hidden under an umbrella and reluctantly dressed only in his swimming trunks. His toes twitched nervously every now and then.

"Go away Bartimaeus. Go swim or something." He grumbled, looking away.

"But aren't you going to?" Bartimaeus repeated, looking him over. Nathaniel glared and hugged his knees to his chest, his chin resting there after a moment.

Bartimaeus blinked and then scooted directly in front of him, mirroring the motion.

Nathaniel stared incredulously at him, his scowl darkening. Bartimaeus beamed, and then matched his expression, puffing out his cheeks and sticking out his tongue with a loud, wet noise.

"I'm not swimming Bartimaeus, just-hey!" Nathaniel was cut off as Bartimaeus leapt up, clapped a hand over his mouth, and carted him off past the groups of people playing and relaxing. He paused only when they'd past an outcropping of rock that secluded them from the rest of the beach before hopping into the water, tossing Nathaniel down as he did.

Years of miserable conditioning kicked in and Nathaniel gasped as his mouth and throat filled with cool, salt water. He panicked, kicking and struggling as he felt his body moving downward. At least his dispassionate instructor had always saved him…if Bartimaeus had finally snapped, he was doomed…

The water suddenly changed direction…which confused him enough that it took several moments to realize he was the one changing direction. Strong hands lifted him above the water and suddenly he was face to face with a dripping Bartimaeus who was blinking owlishly at him.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, as Nathaniel spluttered for breath…and here it came…all the others had laughed and ridiculed, and they had probably all been decent, if stupid, humans…Bartimaeus actually lived to find moments like this to tease him for so it only made sense that he…was kissing him.

Wait…

Bartimaeus' lips were cool and salty, though that could have been the water dripping down both of their foreheads, and his hands were gentle, despite their strength, holding firmly to his waist, keeping him above the terrifying depths.

"You don't like the water." Bartimaeus noted thoughtfully. "Do you want to tell me why?"

Nathaniel blinked, looking dazed. "Actually…actually I think maybe I do…" A small, somewhat silly grin spread across his face and this time he didn't mind when Bartimaeus mirrored it.

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**Review Please!**

...and I obviously don't mind inspiration, pass some my way!


	16. BartNat: In a Word

I do so love one word prompts, I'm not sure why I never got around to putting some up in this drabble collection. Feel free to suggest words to me.

In other news, I have some very much so M-rated drabbles/drabble ideas for Bart/Nat and a few Bart/Ptolemy. I was wondering what all of you would think of me upping the rating of this collection, or if I should perhaps make a separate collection specifically for those that are more mature. I can't decide because, on the one hand, my lovely readers (that would be you all) are used to coming here, but on the other hand it feels like it would be odd to have the first dozen or so chapters as fairly mild and then all of a sudden start having lemons everywhere. I just...can't make up my mind.

Let me know what you think?

Edit: Typos, I finds them...gahhh. ::fixes::

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Bart/Nat: In a Word

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**Fragile** – Human skin is so very sensitive…all it takes is the slightest touch applied correctly to send Nathaniel into blissful convulsions that Bartimaeus only stops when he's no longer sure Nathaniel will be coming out of this alive. The little pervert enjoys it though, so it works out in the end.

**Mutual** – Bartimaeus is obviously distracted today, he's put himself in Ptolemy's form but forgotten his loincloth. Nathaniel is now obviously distracted as well.

**Run** – It's a simple command, but Nathaniel finds himself unable to obey it until Bartimaeus has returned to his side, safe and angry that they haven't already gotten a move on.

**Cupcake** – Nathaniel has a weakness for sweets that he'd apparently been trying to hide…or save himself from, as after stuffing a dozen cakes into his mouth he's looking oddly purple and in desperate need of a bucket…Bartimaeus will not be volunteering to play the part of the bucket.

**Resolved** – Nathaniel stares at Nouda's approaching form and realizes dimly that he doesn't know what life would have been like for him if he'd never summoned Bartimaeus, but he knows without a doubt that he doesn't want to find out.

**Mispronunciation** – Nathaniel stumbles over the incantation, too tired to keep his eyes open to read where he went wrong. Bartimaeus takes the book away, telling him that he's lucky he wasn't in the middle of a summoning or something serious, and puts him to bed.

**Frozen** – Nathaniel has obviously never had the pleasure of being face to face with an angry afrit before without his protective pentacles…it's up to Bartimaeus to save him once again and the little brat really should appreciate that…

**Twitch** – After how horribly they've treated each other in the past, Bartimaeus supposes he really can't blame Nathaniel for being nervous when he finally decides to be nice.

**Deflowered** – Nathaniel stares dubiously at the gaudy irises on the table across from him and really can't see the sense in that particular euphemism. Bartimaeus rolls his eyes and informs him that it's not the expression he's concerned with so much as the act.

**Sunrise** – Bartimaeus watches the sun creep over the horizon and then turns to watch the sleeping boy beside him stir into wakefulness.

**Procrastination** – Nathaniel is working furiously…literally, he's furious with Bartimaeus for being such an accomplished distraction. There's no way he's going to get these reports done on time if…if he keeps stretching himself out across the bed like that…

**Research** – When a certain Miss Farrar finds a certain Mr. Mandrake fast asleep beneath a pile of books, a toppled book case balanced precariously over his small form, she sniffs condescendingly, making a scathing remark to her imp about the use of mind altering substances in the workplace. Bartimaeus hides behind a rather thick volume, mouse shaped and giggling squeakily, pleased to know that he; or rather certain activities involving him are now mind altering substances.

**Stimulate** – Demons just know so very much more about the human body than humans do. Nathaniel can't even begin to pretend that he's offended by that. Not when Bartimaeus is…ohhhh…

**Satisfaction** – Nathaniel's secretary is attractive, intelligent and completely in love with him for some reason. Bartimaeus can't help but be amused by the fact that Nathaniel had never even considered that a possibility, and he can't help but be a bit smug knowing that this is because Nathaniel's entire romantic existence revolves around him.

**Mesmerize **– Bartimaeus can take an infinite number of shapes, but Nathaniel finds none as hypnotically appealing as the lithe, tanned body of his favorite form.

**Allergy** – Nathaniel's entire body is splotchy and swollen. The cook apologizes repeatedly for having put coriander in the meal, but Bartimaeus tosses him out of the window anyway…he's the one that's going to have to hear Nathaniel whine after all.

**Confide** – When you spend as much time with a certain being as Nathaniel does with Bartimaeus, it is inevitable that that being will become a confidant to rather embarrassing information whether you want them to or not.

**Unease** – Bartimaeus doesn't utter a single insult all day. This of course results in utter silence that leaves Nathaniel craving some sort of jibe at his intelligence or appearance...why won't Bartimaeus speak?

**Heels** – Nathaniel wants to wear woman's pants, why won't he wear woman's shoes?

**Fortuneteller** – The old woman smiles disarmingly at Nathaniel and tells him that he's going to have a very unusual love life. He looks over at the djinni sneaking jewels from the dish by her doorway and has to agree that she's right about that.

**Verbose** – There's nothing quite like a sexually frustrated adolescent boy who seems to think he can fill that void with speaking rather than screwing. Pointing this out to him was probably a stupid idea though, as another monologue is apparently in order to set the wayward djinni straight.

**Flimsy** – Nathaniel doesn't seem to believe that the fabric of his clothing is far too thin, so Bartimaeus proceeds to prove it to him by ripping his shirt completely off of him before plunging two tanned hands down the front of his pants to see how his underwear holds up.

**Envy** – Kitty has inexplicably managed to teach herself how to summon demons for the sole purpose of seeking out Bartimaeus. Upon discovering this, Nathaniel feels inexplicably dizzy and faint, his cheeks flaming red in comparison with how deathly pale the rest of him has gone.

**Victory** – Nathaniel was so very pleased with finally winning an argument against the insufferable djinni…if only he hadn't spoiled the victory by leaving him in the aftermath of a senses robbing kiss…on second thought, he _still_ won…

**Emphasis** – Bartimaeus is amused to find that, under the influence of alcohol he really should have known better than to accept, Nathaniel is unable to enunciate properly, doing something truly dreadful to the syllables of each word he utters. He would stop him from making an ass of himself…but it's just so fun to watch.

**Tidy** – Nathaniel's shirt is crisply pressed, his tie perfectly straight. His jacket is starched and sleek. Even the handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket is folded to his exact liking…he'd look completely ready to meet with the Prime Minister if Bartimaeus hadn't hidden under the table during lunch and left him with a completely embarrassing and terribly incriminating stain across his thighs in the wake of his inhumanly talented tongue.

**Fog **– Nathaniel has done a lot of experimenting since the start of his relationship with Bartimaeus, but he does tend to remain firm in insisting that Bartimaeus will come to be in his usual human form…he's not really sure how Bartimaeus expects to have sex with him like that, but he also doesn't really want to find out.

**Indulge** – Bartimaeus doesn't eat, and because of that flavor is really just another way to identify things for him…but he does, he has found, thoroughly enjoy the cotton candy flavor of Nathaniel's lips. Far too sweet and feathery light.

**Complete** – Bartimaeus doesn't want to share Ptolemy's form with Nathaniel, and he tries several different shapes when they first begin this illicit, damnable relationship, but Nathaniel isn't satisfied until he's successfully talked Bartimaeus into the form he so loves. And that, after all, is why he wants it. Not because he has any attachment to the long dead Egyptian boy, but because Bartimaeus has made him such a part of what he is now, that he doesn't seem complete without it.

**Gossip** – As Nathaniel struggles to stay awake in his chair, lulled toward sleep by rich food and soft music, Bartimaeus hears an imp whispering an almost passing thought to his own mistress about how close the renowned Mister Mandrake seems to his djinni. Bartimaeus says nothing as he hands over Nathaniel's leftover dinner to the passing servant, but he knows what he'll be having as his own dinner later.

**Lift** – Bartimaeus is a chronic pickpocket, not because he cares for human possessions, but because he just so enjoys depriving others of them. Nathaniel is now too important to the Ministry for any of the lower members to comment when he shows up wearing their cuff links or wristwatches.

**Spice** – The first time they kiss, Nathaniel runs his tongue greedily over the hot protrusion of Bartimaeus' lips, reveling in the maddeningly inhuman flavor.

**Tea** – Nathaniel gets the worst colds during the winter time. Bartimaeus blames his obviously fragile nature for the sickness, but he blames Nathaniel for his newfound ability to make tea…in all his years of service he'd somehow managed to avoid that, probably because Nathaniel is the first human…well first human who didn't have human servants to make him tea at all hours of the night if he chose….who actually trusts him not to slip poison into it.

**Paper** – Eating anything that isn't alive and in possession of its own essence tends to clog Bartimaeus up, but it's worth it to see the incredulous expression on Nathaniel's face as he downs three weeks worth of research.

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